Let The Rain Fall Down
by Ahmee
Summary: Post Season 55 years down the road. Rory is getting married, but to who?


Authors Note:

I'm Back! I don't know for how long, I like this story and have the itch to continue, but it definitely won't be one of my 30 chapter long stories. This season, which many magazines have called Gilmore Girl's best, was a big disappointment to me. I think they took Rory really out of character and basically destroyed the idea of any goodness in Emily, which the writers had previously worked so hard to convey. The only thing that kept me watching was the Luke and Lorelai romance, and the reappearance of Marty. Who again was written off (at least it looks that way) in a terrible way. Oh By the By, the reason he wasn't seen for the rest of the season---the actor playing Marty had to film the film version of RENT my favorite play ever so yay!

Ok this story, is vague, it involves metaphors. It covers three different time periods all at once.

it starts in the present

goes into the past 5 days

goes back 5 years to explain how they got together.

This is different than my other stories here, it's a different coupling for one. But its also just different. I'm really proud of it. I haven't written a full story in over a year and its been killing me, but with a few good emails sent to me and such for encouragement I got the itch again, and I think the wait was worth it. So I hope you like it please let me kno, now on with the story.

August 8, 2010.

The air is uncharacteristically crisp on this early summer morning. But with the bright orange sun looming over the gray clouds, left over from the previous night's thunderstorms; the day promises to be what weathermen often refer to as a scorcher. The weather is strangely appropriate for an occasion such as this, a union of two people. In fact some might look upon the recent weather as a metaphor for this unlikely couples courtship.

They started off as casual friends, casual but instant. Like the warm breeze that picked up late Thursday evening before the rain came, causing all of the guests at their rehearsal dinner to abandon the tents set up in the center of town for the cool air conditioned sanctuary of Luke's Diner.

The breeze remained calm and unthreatening, seemingly unaware that dark rain clouds were forming quietly in the background, causing an unsettling feeling to pass through the crowd. Sitting in the diner, they all seemed to be standing on eggshells, waiting for something, anything to crack. Change was coming; the sky was ready to open up.

In mere seconds, the gentle warm breeze that reminded so many people of the couple's humble beginning would become a gloomy rainstorm, reminiscent of the period almost 5 years ago, when there was sudden shift in the dynamic of their relationship. Much like the warm breeze, she floated on the good feelings brought on by their innocent, platonic relationship, unaware that things would ever be different. He was the simple bright spot in her life, there for her to vent to, to confide in, a fellow couch potato, who fed her even when she wasn't hungry and stood by her even when she wasn't aware that she needed the support.

He, much like those reluctant rain clouds, was happy to stand in the background, simply enjoying being close to her. At first he tried to convince himself that he saw her as nothing more than a friend, but as time went on; as more of his days were spent in her company, he could no longer deny his feelings. By this time, he noticed a change in her, nothing significant yet, but it had possibilities. For nearly a month he watched quietly as she became more social, more determined, more like someone else. Yet, despite the fact that she, like the warm breeze was slowly picking up force, his feelings continued to grow. Finally after a fateful night out with a group of people, the people he feared—the people, whom he knew given the opportunity, would someday break her; he made his move.

Back at Luke's diner, the guests looked on as clouds grew darker and more intense, ready at any moment to explode. Explode, that's what he felt was going to happen to him if he didn't say something to her. So that night in May, five years ago he laid it all on the line for her, confessed his love--er, like for her. And she, in turn, confessed her feelings for another man. The rain fell hard and long on both occasions—the night of his confession, and the night of the rehearsal dinner.

Once the rain started, most of the guests retreated to their homes, or in some cases their hotel rooms, only a remote few chose to wait out the storm. Ironically, or perhaps fittingly, the only people who remained in the diner were the people who witnessed the figurative version of this storm over five years ago; her mother, the owner of the diner, their best friends, his mother. Sitting at the counter, her mother sighs contently, or maybe it's a sigh of relief. Relief, that this is an actual act of nature and not one brought on by the pretentiousness aftermath of the people that had single-handedly swept her daughter into a life of uncertainty and doubt. The same people, who did exactly what he knew that they would do, break her.

Break her they did, almost immediately after she denied him, her life began to spiral downward. They built up her confidence just long enough crush her completely. At the end of the semester, while he prepared for a summer job back home, she stole a yacht—with the help of a willingly accomplice. He returned to a grateful mother, a welcome home banner and three batches of chocolate chip cookies that lasted him about a week. By the time he moved on to the second batch, she was moving boxes into her grandparents' pool house.

The storm outside continued to roar, the diner was eerily quiet as most peoples' thoughts turned to that turbulent summer where he'd fought with himself to get over her, and she'd fought with her own demons, struggling to recall a time when things were good, when she was happy, when she knew herself. To be fair, her companion in boat-theft had remained in the picture for a while, trying to undo the bad things that had happened. But he only reminded her of her mistakes, of her tumultuous relationship with her mother, her terrible behavior. He was partially at fault for the pseudo-self that she had become and she simply couldn't forgive him for it. He was completely out of the picture by the time she started working for her grandparents' friend as a stenographer in a law firm. It wasn't hard work; she spent 8 hours a day writing down dictations. She knew in a sense it was her grandparents' way of encouraging her to keep writing.

By mid-June, her relationship with her mother was repaired, how, after all could they remain on bad terms when there was a wedding to plan. That was probably the first instance of light breaking through those metaphoric rain clouds. Her mother was marrying the diner owner, much to the dismay of her own parents. At her mother's suggestion, she decided to stay in the pool house for at least the remainder of the summer, her mother told her to surround herself with the things that made her feel good about herself, that made her feel safe. Her mother was referring to the books her daughter loved so much, the books that occupied 90 of the space in her new residence. She however, filled her new living space with pictures of the people she loved—the first picture to go up, was one of him.

The next ray of light came during the first week in August, he had come into town to pick up some books for the upcoming semester, she was having coffee at her favorite café in Hartford. He spotted her first, sitting alone at a table outside, sipping her coffee and staring off into the distance. He tried to walk past unnoticed, but she caught him. She called out his name and stopped in his tracks, trying to decide if he should turn around. Despite everything, he could never deny her. The next several hours were spent playing catch up, her side of the conversation taking the spotlight obviously. As she divulged each new piece of information he became more and more inconsolable. When she casually mentioned not returning to school, he threw down his coffee cup and called her an idiot. For a moment she looked devastated and then broke down into a storm of tears. He apologized, reaching across the table for her hand. Without a second thought she gave it to him, allowing him to squeeze the palm of her hand gently as he explained his reasoning for being so angry.

By some miracle, he had convinced her to go back to school—part time, keeping her job as a stenographer. At the end of the semester, they had agreed, if she still felt lost she would take the spring semester off to collect her thoughts and decide what direction she wanted to go in. Her mother, to say the least was thrilled. After hearing from her daughter how she was made to change her mind, she hunted him down to thank him in person. It was the first time she had ever spoken his name without attaching "the naked guy" to the end of it.

After an hour or so, the rain let up just enough to allow the remaining diner crowd to disperse. Her mother gave them a suggestive wave as they departed, hand in hand. She covered her face in embarrassment; he removed her hand from her face and playfully winked back at her mother.

Yes, the couple has made it through two storms, one literal one figurative, but the feelings that each provoked were all very real. After the rain stopped, it remained quiet outside for quite sometime, the wind eventually came through again, just as warm and unthreatening as before. By that September, their relationship, like with had picked up again. It was just like it was the previous spring, only different. This time she saw him for all that he was. She ceased being distracted by other men who vied for her affection. For her it was only him.

Just as before, he was content to be the reluctant rain clouds, standing off to the side, letting the wind do its thing. She wouldn't have it. By early Friday morning, the wind had gotten loud and riotous. It was as if it was saying, 'Hey look at me here I am.'

The frisky wind seemed to take an attitude similar to the one she'd adopted by December of that year. With no distractions, and new outlook on life---yes his suggestion to come back to school had been the right one---she developed new feelings for her friend, and unlike him 8 months ago, she was not content to shuffle her feet in the background. She wanted him to know that she was there and ready for him.

The clouds rolled in again mid Friday afternoon. They weren't as dark as the day before, but it was obvious that there would be some significant precipitation before the day was done. Despite the fact that her feelings for him continued to grow, and well his feelings for her never went away, taking their relationship to the next level didn't come easy. He felt that she was merely trying to hold onto something safe, and so when she casually leaned over to kiss him during their weekly movie night, he turned his head away. She knew two things right then, 1) she would have to prove to him that this wasn't about her "recovery," and 2) that she'd found the direction in which she wanted to go in, and it was the road that led to him.

When school let out for the holidays they both went their separate ways, to be truthful her attempt to kiss him that night had strained things. He had been trying hard all semester not to fall for her again, a fool's quest. She was making it hard on him, before when she failed to notice him he could happily curse her in the silence of dorm room while shamelessly basking in her presence when they were together. But now she was the one pursuing him, and she wasn't willing to go unnoticed. They went two weeks without seeing each other that winter break, talking on the phone for mere seconds before finding excuses to get off the line.

The rain fell cold and fast on Friday afternoon, all the townspeople bearing ponchos and galoshes helped clear the local inn of the white plastic chairs and tables that had been set up for the reception the following day. Sometime in the late afternoon there was a brief pause in the rain, the sun even made an appearance.

Despite the joyous festivities going on around her, including her mother's announcement during a visit to her grandparents' house that she was pregnant, she was unable to feel an ounce of happiness. She was ecstatic that her mother had found love with her new husband and that she would have that sibling she'd always longed for, but their happiness only reminded her of what was missing from her life. Not the husband, not the impending child, but the man. She missed him, more than she'd missed anyone, even more than the boy who ran away from her so many times she could no longer count.

At the time, she'd thought she'd cried more than humanly possible over him, their situation. But sitting alone in home of her mother's best friend while everyone around her was laughing and giggling waiting for the clock to strike midnight, she knew. She knew that that runaway boy that she had cried over was just that, a boy. He was something more to her; she saw the future with him, she knew he was it for her. Many years ago she had let that boy run away and she had cried for him, for her, but she had let him go.

This was much worse, she loved him and tried to keep him close, but he too ran away, no, he had fled. But this time she didn't want to let him go, he'd left on his own accord. Watching her mother disappear into the kitchen, pulling the diner man by his collar, she could feel the tears painting her cheeks an iridescent red. With in seconds, the scene was blurred by her tears; silenced by pitiful sobs. The festivities going on around her made it easy for her breakdown to go unnoticed by everyone, almost everyone.

His voice was hoarse that night he approached her; he looked and sounded tired. She managed to ask him what he was doing there between shaking breaths. He wiped her tears away with the back of his hand before, once again laying it all on the line for her. He told her of his fears, fears for her, and fears for them. He told her that he didn't want to see their friendship end because they started a relationship, but that he couldn't see their friendship surviving if he continued to deny both of their feelings. She took his hands in hers, squeezing them for support but she was confused, and asked him to tell her what all of his babbling meant. He laughed through his own stifled tears, "I want more," is all he managed to say before she leaned in for a kiss. Wet cheek against wet cheek, they became a couple that night. The previously oblivious crowd around them was suddenly hooting and hollering at them, the town dance instructor screaming, "You can do better than that,"

The rain came again as all the women important to her gathered at her mother's house to reminisce about her life and help her prepare for the day ahead. The women's male counterparts had all joined the groom for a beer over at the local bar, including the youngest, her brother, all of 4 sipping on a root beer at the counter. This rain was different than the angry rain that consumed yesterday; it was even different from the depressing, desperate rain that fell that morning. This was a peaceful rain; the rain that washes away all the bad things that world collects over the course of a summer.

Their newly defined relationship started off peacefully. Both acted as if they'd never touched another human being before. She'd jump at the feel of his stubble across her face; he'd shake, as if he'd just gotten a chill whenever she'd grab his hand as they walked down the street. Things wouldn't stay peaceful for the couple, by mid-January the two were caught in a whirlwind romance.

The rain didn't stay peaceful either; it soon turned into a full-blown lightening storm. Not the scary kind that causes dogs to hide under the bed, but the exciting kind that draws children to the windows to watch how the bolts of electricity hit the ground, illuminating the sky above.

A lightening storm, an appropriate way to describe the couples relationship, then and even now—exciting, and passionate, unpredictable, enjoyable to watch, but get in the middle of it and kiss yourself goodbye.

The storm lasted well into the early morning, fading just in time for the sun to rise over this joyous day. Family and friends have gathered to celebrate. Dressed in summer dresses and sports coats, the wedding guests gather at the inn owned by her mother to drink cocktails and toast the couple before the ceremony begins. Talk between guests include comments about the recent weather and anecdotes about the blushing bride, who most of the guests have known since she was 3.

As the final clouds disappear and the sun begins to rain down on the guests, music begins to play in the distance, informing the world that wedding is about to begin. Guest rush to take their seats, many of the women taking tissues out of their purses as they take their places.

A harp starts to play as the ushers begin their decent down the aisle. Her mother is escorted down the aisle by the man with 40 jobs, who despite being a little odd has come to be beloved by all in the small town of Stars Hollow. One of his cousins has the distinct pleasure of leading her grandmother down the aisle. After his mother is seated, the music picks up pace, and familiar childhood song begins to play. The groom strolls down the aisle, a confident smile plastered to his face

When he reaches the wooden hoopah, a gift on loan from her mother, he looks back and whispers something to his best man. Scanning the crowd before him, he can't help but laugh at the unlikely group that has assembled. Some are family and friends, others acquaintances, many he doesn't even know. Yet he knows that they've all been rooting for him, over the years. And for that he is grateful. He was never the kind of man who needed a cheerleading team behind him, but with her, her was glad he did. He knows that today might not have happened if it wasn't for this rag-tag team of supporters.

The groom is lost in thought as the rest of the wedding party takes their places at the base of the hoopah. The music changes again, the world seems to have been silenced, he looks up as she appears at the end of the aisle.

"Rory," He says hoarsely, as she glides down the aisle like an angel.

She has opted to walk down the aisle by herself; she thought it would be easier than having to choose one of her "two dads" to do it. At the sight of him, tears of joys appear at the corner of her eyes, his curly hair blowing in the wind, his hand automatically reaching to pull on the neck of his suit jacket, that he claimed was appallingly uncomfortable, but agreed to wear because she loved how the dark gray suit made his stand out, that was love, her love and after today is was cemented, neither one could run away. And that's the way she liked it.

Looking up at him, his smile growing every second, she picks up her speed; she can't seem to get to him fast enough. By the time she reaches the hoopah she is practically running. He holds his arm out to steady her as she approaches. After all this time, his touch still makes her shiver. Standing next to him, she reaches out for his hand.

"Marty," she whispers, as he squeezes her hand.

The ceremony begins, vows are exchanged, and poems are read. The dance teacher sings a unique version of the Beach Boys, "Only With You." As the two make their way down the aisle. The road to today, much the like storms that have occurred over the last two days, was not a clear or simple one. It was dark, and at times, it seemed like they wouldn't make it through, but they did. And now today they stand in the courtyard of her mother's Inn greeting guests, waiting to start their lives together—rain or shine.


End file.
